Sea Legends
by SirenAlpha
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow was expecting an easy looting. Captain Arthur Kirkland doesn't intend to let that happen.
1. Piracy

I should be writing about a hundred other things right now, but I couldn't resist. I hope this is all in character enough for everyone.

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><p>The Black Pearl had been stalking the ship for several hours. From the make of the ship, Captain Jack Sparrow believed it would have enough cargo of value to be worth looting. He was looking forward to having enough money to buy the quantity of rum that would last him several weeks. The ship they were tailing was not flying a flag which made it fair game. Jack was hoping it wasn't British though, as that might cause the navy to begin looking for them in earnest again. Things were so hard these days.<p>

"Mr. Gibbs!" the captain shouted suddenly, looking across the deck to find the plump, aging man. Mr. Gibbs had been watching the ship they were tailing for any signs of armament, and whether or not they noticed the black ship following them. He whirled around to face the helm when Sparrow called out to him.

"Aye, Captain?" he asked.

"Are we ready?" the dread locked man asked.

"Aye, we're ready," Mr. Gibbs informed his captain gleefully. He spun round on his heel to begin ordering the men about, yelling at them to prepare for their attack. All the while, Jack kept his eye on the ship, and allowed the Black Pearl's natural speed bring them closer to the target. Once in range, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Fire!"

All of the cannons on the right side of the ship sounded off simultaneously, flinging large iron balls into the side of the other ship. The merchant ship they were attacking had but one cannon on the deck, and even with all the men aboard the ship firing, it wouldn't kill them all. Jack decided the one broadside had been enough; he didn't want to sink it. He steered the Pearl in close, and his crew quickly, efficiently, and viciously roped the two boats together so they could scurry across.

Jack's crew was well practiced. The merchant ship's crew appeared to be mostly new and inexperienced. It was truly an unfortunate first voyage for them, but dreadfully lucky for the harried pirate crew. "Mr. Gibbs, man the helm!" he shouted to his first mate.

"Aye, sir!" the man shouted back, hurriedly taking the post. Mr. Gibbs preferred telling tales of questionable honesty over fighting between ships, swords, and guns. Captain Jack Sparrow never seemed to get enough of it. He speedily crossed the gap between the two ships and took command of the portion of his crew attacking and looting the merchant vessel. Several of the opposing crew leapt to attack him. He easily parried all of their attacks, and cut them down one by one, grinning mischievously all the while. None were very skillful, especially against the less savory pirate fighting tactics.

It was perhaps ten men before he crossed blades with someone whose metal held. Jack took notice of the man who perhaps had a chance of killing him. The most obvious feature was the man's dress. Military, deep blue, he wore a navy uniform. It stuck out oddly against the rest of the crews that both wore whatever they could buy or steal. The man himself was of roughly the same height as Jack, and perhaps even of a similar weight. His blond hair was messy, but neatly covered in a plain black tricorn. His eyes were a shocking green, reminiscent of the land Jack was loathe to visit. He perhaps would have remained focused on the other man's eyes if it weren't for the fact that his eyebrows were minorly distracting.

After several moments of dancing around each other, Jack set in on him. He was shocked when the man held his ground against his attacks. He even pushed back with his own. It was then that he noticed the youth in the man's face. His skill had made him older, but now that he looked at him, Jack thought the blond fighting him could be no more than seventeen. He even seemed gangly still despite his obvious strength.

Jack must have stopped properly paying attention for a split second. It was the only reason he could come up with for explaining how the blond had tossed his sword overboard after some fancy fencing. Jack attempted retreat, but stilled when the boy's blade tapped beneath his chin. Suddenly, the entire ship quieted, and both crews watched on in shock that the pirate captain could be so easily disarmed.

"If you would so kindly choose to take your crew back to your own ship and depart, I will spare your life," the man said, sounding not at all like the age he appeared to be.

"And if I don't?" Jack asked, wondering how far he could push the blond to make an escape.

"You shall die where you stand," the man gave him a smile that was far too mischievous and similar to his own to be that of an officer.

"Oi, you can't do that!"

Jack and the man turned to face the speaker. The man who had spoken was quite portly and rather red in the face. He was wearing clothes much nicer than every other man aboard, including the naval officer. The blond boy rolled his eyes. "I believe I can," he muttered.

"I'm the captain of this ship, and all of you pirates are going to be hung!" the pronounced captain shouted to the entire frozen deck. This startled some of the pirates out of their stillness. They kept their swords raised, and glanced about for the safest exit. On the Black Pearl, it seemed like the rest of the crew was trying to figure out what was going on.

"Just because you're an officer, doesn't mean you're in charge," the captain of the merchant vessel told him, in what he probably meant to be a threatening manner.

"Well, it's not like you're going to be able to complain when I do take charge," the blond quipped easily, giving the man a smile.

The captain looked unnerved and confused. "What are you playing at?" he asked.

The sword beneath Jack's chin suddenly disappeared for a brief moment. For that second in time, the blond drew back his arm, and before the captain could properly react, slammed the hilt of his sword into the pudgy man's temple. He collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap. The sword tip was then promptly returned to its resting spot above Jack's Adam's apple.

Jack gave the blond a quick half smile to which he received a raised eyebrow. He thrust his hand forward and introduced himself spontaneously, "Captain Jack Sparrow."

A smirk spread across the boy's features. He easily switched his blade to his left hand and shook Jack's hand with his right. Before the officer could answer, Jack pulled the trick Norrington had on him. He quickly pushed up the sleeve of his uniform. Branded into his skin was a block font of the letter 'P' a match to his own, courtesy of the East India Trading Company. Above the brand was a tattoo of the pirate flag. It was black background with a white skull with crossbones beneath complete with an invisible breeze across his skin. It was quite the work of art, and it was common for pirates to get a tattoo relating to their name just below their elbow, but Jack couldn't figure his out.

"How does a pirate get into the navy?" he asked. It was one thing to become a privateer, but another thing entirely to put on a uniform.

"I thought we were exchanging names, not life stories," the blond replied easily, not at all concerned that he had been found out. He actually looked sort of pleased about it.

"Aye, what's your name then?" Jack asked, hoping to get the truth. Pirates were tricky people after all, especially ones who find themselves amongst upstanding society.

"Captain Arthur Kirkland,"

Jack Sparrow was, for perhaps the first time in his life, completely flabbergast. He'd chased wild tales for most of his life, but there was no tale more revered amongst the heathens of the sea than that of the pirate captain Arthur Kirkland. Throughout the entire age of pirates, Arthur Kirkland's name had swirled around the towns wherever pirates landed. Legend has it, he had joined the crew of Sir Francis Drake, and took off on his own after becoming captain. He had made piracy and his name known throughout Europe. The name had been accredited to the endless loot that had been poured into the coffers of the great Queen Elizabeth, and the sinking of the greatest Spanish ships. The phantom and fantastic captain had, in certain versions, been the one to defeat the Spanish Armada. His name should have stayed in the past of a century ago with names of the other great pioneer pirates.

In the less savory ports of the world for some time after the death of the Queen, even until twenty years ago, there were still stories passed of seeing the man himself. Men and woman alike swore they had seen his ship, and sometimes the man himself. The times his ship came to port were few and far between, but ships still sank, their cargoes plundered and no pirate crew could claim to have attacked them. The continuing instances spurned even more legends of the man, and the infamous Captain Arthur Kirkland became the face of piracy throughout the known world. Funny thing was, no one knew what he looked like, except that he wore a coat of blood.

This man under no circumstances was old enough to be the man of the legend. Captain Kirkland, Jack doubted, could ever be forced into a uniform of blue instead of his devil red. The blond was good with a sword, but Jack didn't think he could possibly be clever enough to even attempt the feats of legend, the ones that Jack had learned much from. He expected such a ruthless man to look much more intimidating, and less like a dandy. He supposed that the boy could have been named after the legend, but who would ever want to give a child such large shoes to fill? In any case, the blond before him did nothing to help make up Jack's mind. He had seen many impossible things, but nothing was quite this impossible.

"My offer still stands Captain Sparrow," the blond said, drawing his attention out of his own thoughts.

"Are you named after him?" Jack asked before he could stop himself. Even the other pirates around him seemed curious though the merchant crew appeared uninterested. After all, it was only the pirates who still told the legend.

"No, I'm named after no one," the blond replied. Even with a sword against his throat, the boy wasn't as threatening as someone who bore the name 'Arthur Kirkland' should be. Jack just felt a slight bit disappointed.

When Jack didn't say anything, Arthur took control of the conversation. It wasn't the tip that pressed against Jack's throat, but the sharp length of the blade. "Get off my ship before I cut you and your crew to ribbons," he growled, bright green eyes flashing dangerously, "and arrange your ship a meetin' with Davy Jones' replacement himself!"

That's more like it, Jack found himself thinking. Kirkland would never take no for an answer. It would be quite like Kirkland to know that Jones had gotten himself replaced by Turner. He had probably met the budding pirate already, Barbossa as well. The blonde's face had twisted into a menacing scowl. He may have gotten stuffed into a blue uniform, but his posture still wore hellacious red.

"Alright, I'll take your offer," Jack replied, backing up.

"Good," Kirkland said, and Jack was suddenly much happier that he had chosen wisely.

"Back to our ship men!" Jack shouted, leading the way back to the Pearl. He easily crossed the gap and Mr. Gibbs was there waiting for him at the helm.

"What happened, Captain?" he asked, having seen the crew return without anything to show for their attempt, and without being killed.

"Mr. Gibbs, I believe I have just met Captain Arthur Kirkland," Jack responded, still sounding odd.

"The Arthur Kirkland?" Mr. Gibbs easily replicated his shock, "He's real?"

"Aye, and in the navy," Jack answered. As he spoke Mr. Gibbs steered the Pearl away from the damaged merchant vessel. He saw a figure in blue salute on the port prow as they began to gain some distance. Jack saluted in return, and the figure turned away without a second glance and the swagger of a pirate.

"What in blue blazes is a man like Kirkland doing in the navy?" Mr. Gibbs asked, confusion clear on his face, though his eyes were still locked on their course.

"I think he's had to do the same thing we have," Jack replied, turning to Mr. Gibbs, "Adapt."

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><p>I don't think England would have been able to be a pirate for so long without creating some notoriety for himself, and maybe a legend or two. I think that if Jack was an English citizen and a pirate, upon meeting his country would at first not believe who he was. Then have some sort of epiphany and take the unimaginable in stride as he has everything else. Mr. Gibbs of course would know of the legend, and every pirate would likely know it. I mostly wrote this because I didn't see a story like this. I'll leave how England got into his own navy up to your imagination.<p>

I hope you liked it, and please review!


	2. Military

I know I said I would leave it up to your imagination, but I couldn't resist. Here is how England ended up in his navy.

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><p>The door slammed open. The room's three occupants jumped in shock, whirling around to glare at the impudent intruders as well as to check the integrity of the ornate door and the wall it had run into. One did not go about slamming doors in a king's palace, unless one was the king. The occupants were all of very noble birth and had lived better and far more privileged lives than most, and they were all disgusted by what was presented to them.<p>

The door's slam had been caused by two guards that were struggling to hold a grimy, thin man releasing profane expletives on a limitless amount of breath. He was clearly more interested in his manhandling than his surroundings, not even pausing when in the presence of the king himself. King George I only stared at the wretched man in disbelief, looking about for someone to answer his questions pertaining to his impudent and pungent guest. He received no immediate answer, and became only more confused when his admiral shut the door brusquely before going around the guards and the man to bow to his king.

"What's going on?" the King asked, astounded by the behavior of the admiral.

"This is him, we've found him, Arthur Kirkland," the Admiral announced sounding both accomplished and exhausted at the same time.

"Captain!" the man shouted as he firmly planted the heel of his boot onto the toes of the guard on his left. For the guard's credit, he didn't comment on the sudden intense pain.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" the King drawled, though neither the Captain nor the Admiral knew to whom he was addressing.

"You should be," the man growled menacingly, unperturbed by the king and the splendor that surrounded him. It did nothing to draw the King's attention, if that was indeed what he wanted.

"Sire, he is one of the last real pirate threats in the Caribbean. We were going to simply execute him, but apparently there has been some sort of legal misunderstanding," the Admiral's features realigned themselves into a bemused look that still had traces of respect and submission, "There has been a warrant out for this man's arrest by order of Queen Mary II with the explicit stipulation that he be brought directly to her or, in the case of her death, the current ruling monarch. It's completely legal and we haven't been able to void the terms."

The King studiously examined the man who was being held prisoner by the guards. He wondered how such a person could garner the personal attention of a queen. He was dressed in a vivid red coat that was covered in God-knows-what, but in otherwise near perfect condition. It also looked as if it had been tailor fit for him. Even in the New World such things were expensive. The rest of his clothing was equally filthy and covered in grime. The King couldn't tell if the man's trousers were black or brown. His boots were sturdy and looked military, and the King didn't bother to consider why that might be. His wrists were shackled together with iron, and his constant struggling had resulted in sever chafing and even some blood.

The King focused his attention on the facial features of the captive his admiral had brought him. He hid his surprise well, and he had never felt more grateful for his years of practicing such a thing in political functions. The man before him was young. The dirt covering his face was not ingrained into the creases of age, and his hair, though fair, contained no grey and was full. He stood, without a stoop in his back, at the same height as the guards holding him. His stature wasn't even that of a criminal. He stood unashamedly in the face of his betters and captors, straight-backed and head held high. It reminded the King of a prized stallion that knew of its own value. He, strangely, almost looked regal. This was a man that had a warrant on him that was older than he was.

"That's not possible," the King commented blithely, "This is not the man you're looking for. He is far too young."

"If only that were true," the blond pirate quipped, sounding wistful.

"No, this is the right man," one of the two nobleman commented. He was an advisor to the king, which was slightly unusual as he was not anywhere near the standing of the other advisors, but he was older than most at half a century and he had always been an advisor. It was unthinkable to have such a man replaced. He was slowing, but he was excellent at listening, and his advice had yet to be proven unhelpful or unwise, "Though I use the term very loosely."

"Why might that be?" the second nobleman, Charles Spencer, the First Lord of the Treasury asked.

"This man is a physical representation of the people of England," the man said, gazing blankly at the man he spoke of, "He has not set foot upon his own land since the reign of Queen Mary II."

"What in God's name are you saying?" Spencer asked, incredulous.

"I speak only the truth. I was there when he left. I was so young then, but I still remember,"

"Oh yeah," the blond suddenly spoke up, "You're the snitch that was listening in on our conversation."

"It wasn't very hard," the man replied, obviously referring to something only the blond man knew.

The blond, Kirkland, tilted his head giving the old noble a once over. "You've changed so much," he commented, sounding suddenly more out of place than before, "How long ago was that?"

"It's been thirty years," the noble answered gravely.

"Ah, yes," Kirkland responded, much more somber than before, "such an amount of time is not of much importance to some, such as myself."

"Such as yourself?" the King asked for clarification.

"Yes, I am a nation. I don't really follow the normal rules of aging, and therefore don't live like a human does. Thirty years might be a lifetime to some, but it's more like a week to someone who has lived a thousand years or so," Kirkland only shrugged.

"This is a farce," Spencer said fiercely to his king, making no attempt to keep the blond from over hearing.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me I do not speak the truth," Kirkland growled at the noblemen, disregarding all rules and etiquette. He glared defiantly at the sitting noble. Spencer could not hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. The nobleman looked away sweating and shaking.

"You are telling the truth," he conceded quietly.

"How is such a thing possible?" the King asked, not needing to look to know that it was true. He had heard the stories. The whispers that passed down through generations of royalty that told of a man closer to the crown than any politician or nobleman, yet the least likely to be seen with it.

"No idea," Kirkland replied with a sly grin.

"Why are you a pirate? If you are England, how can you break your own laws?"

"Quite easily, just like another person," he replied, "Besides Elizabeth was the one to turn me into a pirate."

"Queen Elizabeth?" King George asked, astounded.

"Yes, of course," England replied, sounding as if such a thing was obvious, "It worked quite well, don't you think? I defeated Spain after all."

"That happened over a century ago," the King said, wondering where his nation was leading him with all of his words.

"Really?" England asked, genuinely sounding surprised, "I thought it was more recent than that."

"Why are you here?" the King asked, finally forcing himself to the point of his questioning.

"Why?" the nation sounded amused, "The monarchy finally caught me, that's why. I bet Mary that if she, or any other English monarch, caught me, I would return to my land and be a good boy. If not, I would do whatever I wanted, which was essentially piracy. Deal's a deal."

"I thought pirates didn't keep their word," the King commented, having no clue what he was doing.

"Aye, but they keep their bets," Kirkland responded with a vicious grin.

"What does one exactly do with their nation personification?" the King asked, hoping he would receive a straight answer.

"Well, essentially anything," England shrugged, "Though that's not really recommended. You running the government runs me. I just float about doing what I can to get what I want, which is basically what the people want. Personally, however, seeing as I just got back you might just want to stick me with him."

England pointed at the admiral, who only stared back in flabbergast shock. "Why would I do that?" the King asked.

"Well, I'm not used to you, and you're not used to me. You'll be able to call me back at any time. Besides, it's the military. It'll straighten me out a bit," England pointed out, giving the King a heartfelt look.

"Very well," the King said waving all four men off, "He's yours, Admiral, just see that he gets a proper haircut."

They all bowed to the King, except for England. The guards released his shackles, but he followed them quietly out. He appeared nonchalant on the surface, but on the inside, England was pissed off. He wanted to tear out his own hair. He had stupidly gotten himself caught, which was simply unbelievable. He had already known he was on borrowed time, even with some other pirate captain distracting the East India Trading Company. The bet itself was one last desperate attempt to cling to the life he was living. The life so close to human, so enjoyable and rule free, the life his kind weren't supposed to live.

He should have exercised more caution. He had known full well things were changing. Davy Jones was dead and replaced. He had met the boy himself. He was so young with barely any crew and spoke only of love and a captain named Jack Sparrow. Turner had not even known who he was. He had felt that it was a sign that he was no longer meant to be on the sea. Calypso had only half confirmed it. He knew his navy was gaining. Pirates were good, but they weren't state funded or backed by the newest technology. They weren't even able to properly fix their ships. One by one, pirate ships were disappearing.

He had been running out of places to hide, and he knew something else was afoot. His days of piracy were ending. He no longer needed the childish means to get what he wanted. He was maturing both in body and in mind. Something new was going to occur, he could feel it deep within him. He was familiar with the feeling. He had to be there for it, whatever it was, even if it meant giving up his freedom as a pirate. He has to move on from these days, and he can only hope that good will come out of it. There was America to think of as well. This was a step to a more proper adulthood, not in terms of brotherhood to America, but solely for himself and his people. He had work to do.

He glanced at the admiral striding purposefully before him. England realized it would be tiresome to be under someone's command again, but he felt this admiral could weather the backlash. He hated that he had to join the military, under his own suggestion no less!

At least, he still had the sea.

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><p>I hope you enjoyed it. All those named are not my own characters, though the historical figures have been given fake personalities. The First Lord of the Treasury is one of the titles held by the British Prime Minister, and Spencer was in a position that was a predecessor to the office of Prime Minister. That would make Spencer and King George I England's bosses in the year 1720.<p>

The ending is insight into what England is thinking, seeing as he was seen only through Sparrow's eyes in the previous chapter. I think this is realistically how he might feel had he lived life in the "Pirates of the Caribbean" version of pirate history and life. This is how England grew up and out of his life of a pirate and made his first step towards his life as an empire, which sort of makes this a coming of age story. I hope you liked it anyways, and please review!


	3. Acceptance

I feel like this sucks a lot. I had one feeling when I began the piece, and ended with a completely different one. This is almost entirely an England monologue about his maturity into adulthood for nations.

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><p>"You can't be serious," England said, giving the admiral in charge of his admittance into the navy an incredulous look.<p>

"I am," the admiral replied, giving a condescending look specifically to England's hair, "It's far too long and tangled. It'll be easier just to cut it all off."

England wrinkled his nose at the man, but didn't argue. He didn't particularly like it at this length anyways. It went past his shoulders, and he had only just managed to contain the dirty, wild mane into a messy bundle tied at the back of his neck. He was only refusing on principle. He had been bombarded by numerous new rules and orders, and they hadn't even left the palace yet! The guards had been sworn to secrecy then sent back to their posts, leaving England alone with the admiral.

"Fine," he conceded grumpily. The admiral looked both pleased and relieved. The man nodded and continued leading the nation out of the palace. Once on the street, the admiral guided the former pirate into a carriage. He gave the driver orders to drive as fast as possible to the officer academy. The entire trip was spent in silence. The admiral appeared slightly uncomfortable in the atmosphere, but the new recruit seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

England was quickly hustled through the building. He was roughly cleaned, his hair was lopped off, and he was given a uniform to wear. By the end of an hour and a half, England looked like just about every other officer in the British navy. He was not pleased, but the admiral certainly was. At least he wasn't the one having to answer everyone's questions about him.

"Good," the admiral said, referring to his new appearance.

"I'm glad you're happy," England remarked sarcastically. He stormed ahead of the admiral, unwilling to be following anyone. He knew his way around the building well enough. It was impossible for him to get lost on his own land. That was one of the only good things about coming back. Just setting foot within his boarders had calmed him. He felt safe and home. Then all of his people's problems slowly bubbled up into his consciousness. He hated to be reminded just how much trouble he was in, always in.

"This was your choice," the admiral pointed out.

England rolled his eyes and scoffed, quickening his pace. He had decided to gamble on a chance and make the best of his capture. As soon as he found the opportunity he would escape from the watch of the military officer. This was home, but he craved freedom more than comfort. What point was there in being if all you ever saw was your own lawn? That grew boring far too quickly.

The admiral had chalked England's better mood the following day to a full night's rest. It wasn't. England was doing his best to fade into the background, even if it required mature and military behavior. The sooner he was no longer a liability or a danger he could slip away. It had worked several times before, and he was very good at it.

The admiral was unusually wary of him and was ridiculously annoying. England lost his temper several times in the presence of the imperturbable officer. His more incendiary moments were quickly attributed to his time spent as his pirate, and while not terribly unexpected, always pushed the date of his departure further away.

It took several months before he left for the docks without anyone batting an eyelash. Not even the admiral noticed. He would be too late when he realized his mistake. England was a better liar than his Hanoverian king might think.

England had been staking the docks for several weeks. He had found a ship with an easily controlled captain, and a newer crew that wouldn't ask questions about an officer. They would mumble, but would never attempt anything. He had secured passage to America only the day before. The kind hadn't ever bothered to check where he kept his money. He smirked, thinking of how easily deceivable humans were.

"You've made it just in time," the captain said curtly to him as he stepped aboard.

England disliked the plump man as he was hardly fit to be captain. England only nodded to the man before turning from him to walk to the prow. He had no job to do, nor anything to tend to. He was simply a passenger with hidden money and the clothes on his back. He watched his land disappear as the ship left the port. He was reminiscing, wishing that it was Elizabeth he was leaving as a knight of the sea with a home to return to and not a criminal desperately attempting to break his shackles for the final time. He realized his thoughts and pushed them away. The sea was forever dangerous, and he had no time nor place for such thoughts.

He waited for the usual excitement to rise in him as he stared outwards over the open blue expanse that he felt he hadn't seen properly in ages. He was still for several moments then he sighed, and leaned his forearms on the railing. He didn't think he could feel more disappointed with himself, with everything. This was no longer his place of freedom, and there was no thrill. He had indeed been changed in his short time home. The maturity he had thought he had needed to gain for the future when he had arrived was residing within him. He had felt his people's need, and had left. He felt so childish for it.

With that knowledge he turned from the sea. There was no comfort it could give him. He wasn't a pirate, but an Englishman. He slunk from the deck and into his quarters, intending to spend the boring days on the sea thinking of what he would say when he returned to America. He hadn't expected a pirate attack near the end of the voyage, but it had been a welcome distraction. Captain Jack Sparrow was indeed a man worth talking about.

England spent that evening gazing wistfully across the empty ocean thinking of the man that was some sort of odd, brilliant version of the pirate he had been only a short time ago. He had loved the feeling, the power of his sword, the control he had over two crews with only a length of sharpened metal. If only for a moment he had broken his binds. He still felt the relief in his system. His name was still remembered, and he could still be free. The adrenaline of the fight had long since worn off, and the chill of night was setting in as the sun set at the edge of the horizon.

He knew this was the end of it. He would likely never have freedom like that again. He had his people to think of, America to think. Spain had already fallen, and he was rising. The world couldn't be leaderless, and he had so much work to do. He felt the change in himself, and the shift in time and the world, more clearly than when he had been captured. It was time, and he knew why he had left the admiral, his land, and the military. He had needed this final time to be free, to be free and choose to accept his duties alone and by himself. He felt ready and capable. He could look forward to the future, and learn to find happiness in more than just the sea at his feet and the wind in his hair.

_You're not leaving_

England started, but caught himself before he glanced around the deck. It was Calypso. He could see her form in the water.

_The sea is still here for you, it is your friend._

"And my greatest foe," he returned to the seemingly empty space before him. Her laugh was the only response he received. He had been right when he had returned to his land.

When he goes to war, when he one day is crippled, when he, sometime in the future, is cast from his pedestal, when, at some time, he is hated, the sea will be there. Even if there are no English sailors, but just like the bow, he would still have the sea. If he dies, his grave will be marked with water.

From that moment on, no matter the circumstances, England enjoyed his voyages on the sea.

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><p>Everyone matures, but usually it is not so conscious a decision. I didn't want to rewrite the scene with Jack, and wanted to keep England's thoughts in the middle of the conflict a mystery. England, by the end of this, has accepted his role as a proper world leader and that he will do his job as a nation. This new thinking (in my headcannon), while leading to America's own growth and eventually independence, also allows England the ability to begin the move into the industrial revolution, which has improved human lives considerably.<p>

However his pirate heart lies on the sea. England is an island, and can't really ever part from the sea. Not only that, most of England's power came from his navy. One day, supposedly, England will also sink into the sea, either through erosion or global warming.

If this wasn't what you were expecting, or not really your cup of tea, sorry for bothering you. Please review!


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